


Treats

by fuzipenguin



Series: Half Your Age +7 [5]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Older!Twins, Other, Twincest, younger!ratchet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Rations are boring.





	Treats

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Throwing out a prompt from Young!Ratchet/Older!Twins to see if your muse gets a nibble. "Comfort food."

                Rust sticks weren’t exactly rare, but for two months straight, the commissary had been out of them. Of course, it was out of a lot of things other than simple rations, but there were still a few treats floating around.

                Ratchet’s favorite snack and comfort food was not one of them, however.

                “What’s cooking, good looking?”

                Sideswipe plopped down on the bench next to Ratchet, Sunstreaker sitting across from them a moment later. Ratchet sighed and scooted a bit to the left, away from Sideswipe.

                The frontliner didn’t seem to care. He just plopped his arm on the table surface and propped his head up on it, looking up at Ratchet with a grin on his face.

                “Not a whole lot, I’m afraid,” Ratchet replied, glancing mournfully down into his cube.

                “Ah, ration blues?” Sideswipe asked. He reached out and gently flicked the side of the energon container. “You get used to it. Or you start getting inventive.”

                He winked at Ratchet and pulled out a small bottle from subspace. Before Sideswipe could even open it, Sunstreaker reached across the table and grabbed it. Sideswipe made a protesting sound and pouted as his brother poured a few drops of the container’s contents into his own ration.

                “Don’t see you around here much,” Sunstreaker commented, handing the bottle back to Sideswipe.    

                “I tend to stay pretty busy. Plus they never have new stock in. I miss rust sticks,” Ratchet said wistfully, staring up at the counter.

                “Want a little shot to tide you over?” Sideswipe asked waggling the bottle in front of Ratchet’s face.

                Ratchet pushed Sideswipe’s hand away. “No I’m on shift in an hour. I can’t be overcharged.”

                “We could help with any excess charge you might accumulate,” Sideswipe replied, leering a little.

                Ratchet rolled his optics, throwing back the last swallow of his ration. He stood and nodded at the twins. “I think I’ll be fine. Stay out of trouble.”

                Sideswipe snorted. “Cuteness – trouble is my second name. Wanna know Sunstreaker’s?”

                Ratchet paused, looking back over his shoulder with a raised orbital ridge. He could completely see Sideswipe creating a second legal name and coming up with ‘Trouble’. Sunstreaker, on the other hand…             

                “Stamina,” Sunstreaker said, and gave Ratchet a slow onceover.

                Ratchet rolled his optics and stalked off, absolutely _not_ getting a little warm under the plating from the lascivious look.

 

 

                Two days later, he couldn’t ignore a different warmth suffusing his frame when he opened the door to his quarters and stumbled over a box containing two dozen rust sticks. There was no note inside and some of the treats were a bit crumbly, but it made his spark skip a beat as he clutched the box to his chest.

 

~ End


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